"Yesterday's profit… five hundred thousand dollars?!"

His voice cracked like a broken clarinet.

Cho Rin peered at him, tilting her head. "That sounds… good?"

Suho buried his face in the report. "Good? Cho Rin, this is catastrophic. Yesterday I had the perfect setup to burn cash, and now it's multiplying like rabbits!"

He immediately dialed Park Jang.

The manager answered in a chipper voice. "President Kim! Morning! Isn't it wonderful? We—"

"Shut up, Jang. Why the hell did Tianlong's profits jump half a million overnight?"

Park coughed nervously. "Ah… about that. Seo Jun looked into it. Turns out… someone recharged five hundred thousand all at once."

Suho blinked. "Recharge? The whole point was that it's free now! Who does that?"

"According to the account, the player spent it all rolling for the 100k noble weapon. Probably some rich guy who didn't feel like grinding. Clever design, by the way, President Kim. That price point is genius."

"Genius?!" Suho nearly dropped the phone.

But Park was on a roll, his voice reverent. "Truly, sir. It separates the haves from the have-nots without ruining balance. The poor can still grind to catch up. The rich can skip the queue. It's not just a game anymore; it's life itself."

Suho sat back, dead-eyed. Life itself? I just wanted to tank profits, not get compared to philosophy class.

He slammed the phone down and muttered, "Dogshit system. Can't even let me lose properly."

Later that afternoon, Suho and Cho Rin drove to the industrial park.

Inside the park manager's office, Park Lee Mau welcomed them like royalty, practically bowing as he poured tea.

"President Kim, such an honor! If I'd known you were coming, I'd have rolled out a red carpet."

Suho waved him off. "No need for theatrics, Manager Lee. I came to ask about a bigger workshop."

Lee's eyes lit up like someone had just handed him a winning lottery ticket. "As it happens, one just freed up! Two stories, two thousand square meters total. You pass it on the way to your canteen every day."

He beamed. "Shall we take a look?"

They walked to the building. Suho inspected it briefly. It was massive—exactly the kind of wallet-draining beast he needed.

"Perfect. I'll take it."

Lee blinked. "You… what? Already?"

"I don't need a tour of the bathroom tiles. Sign me up."

The manager stammered, clutching his notes full of sales pitches he never got to use. "B-but, President Kim, perhaps you'd like to at least see the upstairs?"

Suho squinted. "Why? Is the upstairs haunted? Structurally unsafe? Built on a cursed burial ground?"

Lee waved his hands frantically. "No, no, the quality inspection passed! Totally safe!"

"Then it's fine. Let's skip to the contract before I change my mind."

Relief washed over Li's face. Still, Suho asked one last thing.

"What about the previous tenant? Didn't someone already rent this place?"

Lee sighed. "Yes, but… poor management. The factory bled money until it collapsed."

Suho's lips curled into the first genuine smile he'd had all day.

"Excellent. That's exactly the kind of place I want to inherit."

Poor management? Losing money?

Kim Suho stared at Park Lee Mau with actual envy in his eyes.

Imagine that. A company so badly run it hemorrhaged cash. That was Suho's dream! Meanwhile, his own people refused to give him the courtesy of failure. They insisted on… running things well.

"Why is it," Suho thought bitterly, "that incompetence is wasted on the wrong people?"

Out loud, he cleared his throat. "Let's talk workshop price. But I might only pay part up front this time. Balance later."

Lee beamed, pouring tea like he was serving a king. "Mr. Kim, no worries! Of all the bosses in this park, you're the one I trust. Your cafeteria is legendary. Even I can't get a meal box half the time."

Suho muttered, "Yes, nothing screams financial stability like braised pork belly Thursdays."

Lee leaned in. "The last tenant paid 500,000 a year. But if you sign for three years, the discount rate is 1.4 million total."

Suho's face twitched. Great. He's saving me money again.

But then his inner accountant perked up. Perfect. He'd delay the actual payment until the day before settlement. That way, he'd dump the entire system fund in one go. Instant money sink. Bulletproof plan.

He smiled thinly. "Fine. Three years. Done."

Lee, pleased, leaned back—then suddenly slapped his thigh. "Ah! More good news."

Suho froze. Oh no. Not this again.

Lee grinned. "Remember those uniforms your factory made us? Big hit. With fall coming, the boss wants 2,000 autumn work suits. Surprise!"

Suho's smile died on the spot. Surprise? That's more like a jump scare.

He pictured poor Lee Wonho hearing this instead of him. That loyal golden retriever would've wagged his tail, signed the order, and come running to Suho's office yelling, "Look, boss, more money!"

Suho took a slow breath. "Manager Lee… apologies. We're moving away from contract orders. The Steel Cup T-Shirt Factory is transitioning to branded clothing. Self-production. Self-sales."

Lee blinked, then forced a diplomatic smile. "Ah. That's… a pity. I'd hoped to give you more orders."

Then, incredibly, he actually clasped his fists like an ancient courtier. "But congratulations, Mr. Kim. May you grow bigger, stronger, and shine brighter."

Suho stared at him, thinking, "Congratulations?" On running straight into bankruptcy? Buddy, you really don't get me at all.

Still, contract signed, Suho left with Cho Rin at his side.

The wilds burned with chaos. Two guilds, banners blazing: Haoshangtian and Lingyan Pavilion.

Front and center, guild leaders Chen Cong and Du Ziteng faced off like two dads at a PTA meeting who'd both been cut off at the open bar.

Du Ziteng typed into world chat:

"Tuhao, don't get cocky. Eight dragon-slayer pieces aren't a full set. You can't carry this."

Chen Cong fired back instantly:

"Oh, please. I just dropped five noble 100k sets tonight. Add that to my stash; I've got ten. What have you got? A shiny alt account?"

Du Ziteng smirked behind his monitor and cracked his knuckles. "You rich boys think you're special? Guess what—I bought five noble sets too. Plus spares from my dragon-slayer hoard. Let's dance."

And just like that, the field exploded. Two massive guilds clashed, spells flashing, swords flying. Passing players stopped to gawk.

World chat blew up:

"Holy crap, it's Haoshangtian vs. Lingyan Pavilion!"

"This is bigger than my parents' divorce!"

"Screen-recording this—might be the only war I ever see IRL."

Seo Jun burst into Park Jang's office like a man who'd just won the lottery. "Brother Park! Good news!"

Park, mid-sip of coffee, nearly choked. "Since when do you people say good news? Should I duck?"

Seo Jun grinned. "Tianlong's unions fought last night. Both guild masters dumped five hundred grand each. Total daily revenue? Over one million dollars."

Park's jaw dropped. "One… million? In one night?"

Seo Jun nodded so hard his glasses nearly flew off.

Park sat back, dazed. When Tianlong was at its peak, daily sales weren't even this wild. And now, thanks to that one hundred thousand noble gear tier, whales were pouring in cash like frat boys buying beer pong supplies.

Slowly, Park exhaled. "President Kim… You sly fox. I thought that 100k gear was insane. Turns out it's brilliant. The man planned it all along."

He felt a wave of admiration. He doesn't just make games… he makes metaphors for life itself.

Aloud, he said, "Write up a full report and send it to President Kim. Make sure you highlight the million-dollar milestone."

Seo Jun saluted like a soldier off to war.

Park leaned back in his chair, still stunned. "A million dollars… this is going to kill him."

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